


The Influence of Her

by pleasesayitsnotso



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Apologies, Arguing, Bad Beginnings, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Jealousy, Love/Hate, Past Relationship(s), Reconciliation, Resentment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 17:57:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5465684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasesayitsnotso/pseuds/pleasesayitsnotso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mini Story: Modern Teacher AU, where Mr Bellamy Blake occupies the position as head of History at a school where Miss Clarke Griffin works as an art teacher. Their paths cross in a far from amicable way, launching their acquaintance into a frequent war of words. Although first impressions are far from what they seem, and time can heal all wounds... surely?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Influence of Her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacecleavage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecleavage/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it, as you can see I kind of got carried away! So I apologise if it's far too long for your liking :) 
> 
> It has been lovely chatting to you anonymously and I can't wait for you to receive this gift so I can then follow you and hopefully continue getting to know you.
> 
> Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year darling, I hope you get everything you hope for and deserve :D
> 
> Best Wishes :)  
> x

_“Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word.”_

_―_ **George R.R. Martin**

* * *

 

     Despite the sparkling vibrant decorations that adorned the bar Clarke and her colleagues were occupying for their Christmas party, nothing could deter the anger that currently simmered precariously within her veins. Her fingers clenched around the stem of her wine glass so much so that her knuckles turned a bright white, her fury knew no bounds and was begging to be released. Casting her gaze around the room she identified the cause of her drastic change in mood, his silhouette framed within the window of the patio doors, Bellamy Blake. Head of history at the school she worked at, he was a pompous man with all the pride of a preening peacock and was someone she had long held in disregard. It had all began when she had gone to collect the TV she had booked for her next class, following the administrative procedures she had previously filled out the form to book it, however on arrival it was gone. After much more searching that time couldn’t really afford her, she detected it in the possession of Mr Blake himself. Still now she remembers vividly the way he smirked in delight at her frustration and aggravation, and how he dismissed her so rudely she left without the TV. As she had vacated his classroom under her breath she swore to loathe him for all eternity and to make his life as difficult as possible when regarding his lessons and teaching. Two could play at that game.

     However that was not the only source of the abhorrence she held for him, recently he had crossed her in other ways. Her good friend and colleague Harper Bennet, who worked as the student counsellor and nurse, had become rather fond of Mr Blake, something which was apparently easily done. Not on Clarke’s watch. They had started to converse frequently and much to the delight of Harper herself, they eventually went on a date. Clarke had repeatedly expressed her concern for her friend’s deep seated interest in a man who lacked any propriety or respect for others, however she was a minority. Cut to this very evening and Harper was tearfully explaining to her friend how she had foolishly slept with Bellamy, only to find that afterwards he purposefully ignored her... through every social media possible. Despite the ringing chimes of ‘I told you so’ that resounded loudly in her head Clarke was far too concerned for her friends feelings, and how to deal with the surge of contempt that she currently felt towards Bellamy.

     After much comforting on Clarke’s part, she excused herself and made her way towards the person who had caused her kind friend such misery. Snaking through the crowd of giddy people who basked in the glee of Christmas, and their copious alcoholic beverages, Clarke managed to reach the patio doors and exited them to the perpetrator himself. Looking up at her entrance she noted that in one hand he held a bottle of beer, whilst the other was occupied by a cigarette as his brow quirked into a questioning expression as he eyed her warily before quipping,

“Miss Griffin is there a problem?” Clearly her features themselves painted a picture of pure indignation targeted squarely towards him, her irritation continued to show in her stern response,

“The only problem here is you.” With that smirk that she had seen far too often, and had wound her up one too many times he replied in a suggestively low rough tone,

“I see myself more as a solution than a problem.” His arrogance added fire to the flame of her contempt and rage, as she stepped towards him and chided,

“Well solve this one Mr Blake; was there any need to play Harper along like that?” His smug expression fell into one of annoyance and irritation, as he dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out with his foot. Glancing back up into the unyielding gaze of Clarke he incredulously asked,

“Play her?” With a heavy sigh she replied with as much patience as she could currently muster, trying in earnest to keep at bay the annoyance she felt at his ignorance,

“God knows why, but she actually liked you Bellamy, and you used her for no apparent reason but to feed your failing ego.” Her voice had now risen in volume showing clearly her hostility, whilst also provoking a few people who were inside and within ear shot to glance through the windows. With a clink Bellamy placed his beer bottle on the window ledge nearby, before with a tone of disbelief at her accusation he replied,

“And I suppose it had nothing to do with her ‘failing ego’ either?” If his plan was to antagonise her further he was being successful, as her features contorted into a look of pure disgust she fired back,

“Don’t you dare try and deflect your shit onto other people. Harper is a nice person who thought you might have liked her the way she liked you. Clearly she didn’t know you long ago lost your sense of compassion along with your ability to feel any emotions whatsoever.” Despite the solid front that Bellamy held, his eyes softened and widened at her cruel assumption of him, it wasn’t that he hadn’t been insulted before, hell he’d heard worse... but it came from Clarke. Yes she had chastised him many a time, but this one stung... a lot. Perhaps it was because it echoed the very words his sister had once thrown at him during one of their fiery arguments, and **maybe it was because for him things had changed**. Dismissing the stab of her words he countered, within a concealing chuckle,

“Be careful Princess those words may be too sharp to carry around in public.” During their spat they had made their way towards each other, meaning now they were a mere few inches apart. This was punctuated heavily by the fact Clarke prodded Bellamy in the chest with her finger as she snarled,

“Fuck you Bellamy.” As she stepped back, deciding that her time confronting him was done, Bellamy felt the contagious effects of her rage as he questioned her, his voice strong and bold in the still of the night,

“Has Harper lost the ability to speak?” Whipping around Clarke's golden tresses splayed around with her, curling around her neck as she halted to glare at Bellamy, her brow teased into a inquiring and bemused look,

“What?” Taking a few steps towards her, Bellamy felt the need to prevent the pernicious words that seemed to fall from his mouth so eloquently, but clearly the numerous alcoholic drinks he had consumed had decided otherwise. Her accusations had irritated him far more than usual, scratching the wounds of the allegations of his past, many of which he had deemed to have long gone. They hadn’t, they were there and she had peeled back the dressings that had protected them and hidden them for so long, he was hurt and annoyed... and drunk,

“When did it become your job to fight other people’s battles?” Now it was her turn to look upon him with a smug expression, as she took pride in replying candidly,

“When dickheads like you turn up.” Looking upon her he found his mind casting back to a memory he had long kept hidden, ignored avidly because **it revealed far too much about himself, something he wasn’t ready to admit quite yet**. He remembers leaving work and as he did so, he saw Clarke standing by her car with a man she gazed upon like he was her moon, her stars, her everything. The sparkle in her eyes was blinding, and the smile emblazed upon her lips was something he had never seen before but wished to more often. They were close, her fingers trailing along the jaw line of the man before her in an endearing manner, whilst his hands rested on her hips as if they were always meant to be there. The feeling he felt when he saw them was something he had not anticipated, a tightening within his gut that travelled up his throat choking him, igniting what he originally thought was the mere feeling of dislike he’d convinced himself he felt towards Clarke. **It wasn’t**. Finn Collins had dated Clarke for a good while, until she had discovered that he had in fact a fiancé, a childhood sweetheart who had recently gone through a career change merely to be beside the man she loved. When Bellamy had heard of what had occurred, he felt a genuine feeling of deep seated resentment immediately become towards the man who had wronged Clarke so. Her heart ache, although concealed, was plain for Bellamy to see and during that time whenever they bickered he allowed her the victory, and kept his back chat to a level that would not aggravate her already wounded soul. And so with the knowledge that he was indeed about to say something that he would not be able to take back, that would strike Clarke in her weakest spot, he allowed it to spill from his lips, the bitter memory spurring him on,

“Dickheads like Finn?” Her complexion blanched as her features fell, her lips pursed tight and her eyes had long lost the vibrant fire of fury that had made them gleam so, her gaze was dead and it was directed right at him. Her usually bright sapphire eyes seemed to weaken, their colour fading to nothing more than a frail grey, he had done this. With a blink she dismissed the hurt that had clouded her features so severely, as she turned and started to walk away. This in itself sobered Bellamy up immediately, as the impact of his words became very clear. Of course during their acquaintance they had thrown many a disparaging word towards each other, but somehow they always knew the things that could not be said, the words that actually meant something. He’d breached that, and with that realisation he called after her, his stumbled steps following her,

“Wait... Clarke... I...” Turning to him but ensuring her gaze never met his, with a tone that was flat, void and benign of anything she stated,

“Don’t... just don’t.” And with that she left, left him standing alone in the cold, left him with the stark truth that he had fucked up... badly.

 

* * *

 

     It was Christmas Eve and here he was stood before the house of the woman he... cared for, the woman he spent so long fighting and chiding that he never even thought of how he truly felt towards her. He knew that she despised him openly, and it seemed that everyone assumed he returned those sentiments, but in all honesty he didn’t. But then he also didn’t know what he felt when regarding her, not until the unfortunate incidence of one Finn Collins. The man who had led him to a severe drunken slip of the tongue, which had forced him to confront the reality he had long been avoiding. **He liked Clarke... a lot**. A lot more than any woman he had ever become fond of before, she was fiercely independent with an incredibly caring and compassionate nature, whilst simultaneously not being one to back down from a fight. She was in its simplest form, a warrior. A woman who had far more depth, intellect and complexities than anyone he had ever met, and it held him in a permanent state of wonderment.

     Shifting his feet and burying his hands further into his pockets, he came to the realisation that he had no idea what to say or do, and that on reflection some prior planning would have probably helped. On finally realising he had neither the preparation or bollocks to deal with what he had anticipated on doing he turned to walk away, however there walking towards him with an adorable beanie hat perched over her golden locks and a bag of shopping was Clarke herself,

“Bellamy?” Clarke could not ignore the slight wince that came across his features at the mention of his name, as he planted his gaze on her, she could read clearly the discomfort he felt in every inch of his being. He somehow managed to sink further into himself, his shoulders rising to allow his chin to bury itself deeper into his thick scarf, as his tousled dark curls caught the wind ever so slightly. His gaze flitted anxiously around her, as he nervously stated,

“Hey... Clarke... you’re here.” She had never witnessed Bellamy to be nervous, he always conveyed a confidence that tilted him far more towards pretentious than merely self-assured, a quality she had always loathed him for. But here he was squirming under her gaze, unable to keep still for more than a few seconds as she addressed him, her confusion clear in the hesitant tone of her voice,

“Yes. I live here, what do you want?” The exasperated delivery of her question made it perfectly clear that despite their dispute having been a week or so ago, she had no real interest in discussing anything with him, let alone what had come to pass between them. At that Bellamy knew it was time to just say it, because it needed saying and she needed to hear it, needed to know that he was a better man than the one she thought she knew. The one who had started it all, had rudely taken her TV and foolishly believed that his charm could get him out of every conflict with a woman. She had been the exception,  

“I... I wanted to apologise, for... well... everything... really.” He was now glancing from side to side; he almost looked as if he was scanning the area for an exit, a way out of whatever the hell he was trying to do. However his gaze fell upon her just as her features screwed into an expression of pure bewilderment, as she asked perplexed,

“What?” Looking like a child who had been caught red handed, despite his taller stature, he glanced up at her from under his eyelashes as he stated with a sincerity she had never before witnessed,

“I’m sorry.” If Bellamy was honest it was worth saying just to see the look of complete bafflement that embellished her features, even coercing the edges of his lips to curl into a slight smile of amusement. Because damn it she looked adorable, her pure blue eyes wide and her crimson lips forming a small ‘o’ in shock at his apology, before she murmured,

“Okay... thanks... umm apology accepted, but I’m not the only one you should be apologising to. Hang on did you come here just to say that?” Her voice had now softened, relinquishing the harsh and blunt tone she often used when conversing with him, as he replied,

“Yes of course... umm... No... I...” However the gaze he received from Clarke, immediately let him know that she was not about to buy the spiel that was to fall from his mouth. A desperate attempt, in all honesty, to garner some of the self-respect he had just lost, he conceded to her look, because who was he kidding really?

 “Yeah, yeah I came here to...  to see you.” His last few words he exhaled in a sigh of release, as he felt the burden of his guilt ease slightly from his chest before he started to think that perhaps it was time to move forward. That was if she too wanted that, stepping forward he spoke for the first time that evening with assurance that what he was doing was right, looking deep into her eyes he gently inquired,

“Clarke I know you despise me and I’ve fucked up a lot recently, but I’m done with this now. I’m done being the asshole that ignored your paperwork and tried to flirt his way out of a conflict just for a TV...” An amused smirk graced her lips at that; it was enough to give him the will to continue and the confirmation that it was the right thing to do,

“... because I like you.” Her eyebrows rose upon her forehead in surprise at his admission, she opened her mouth to speak but all words seemed to fail her before she closed her mouth again. She didn’t know what to say, because in all honesty yes she disliked him, she had once even hated and despised him as he had indeed pointed out. But he had become familiar, a bizarre comfort, a constant that was always there and in some messed up way she liked him around. Unable to bear the silent void that lay between them Bellamy spoke up again, his voice laced with an understanding and delicacy she found rather endearing,

“I wondered if we could talk... like actually talk and get to know each other, not bicker and argue like we usually do.” A slight chuckle escaped from his lips at his last few words, something which caused two incredibly charming dimples to appear above the edges of his lips and his dark eyes to glisten attractively. She had never seen him like this, it was new, refreshing and different, maybe she could like this version of Bellamy better than the one she had long accused him of being. With that thought she smiled gently up at him before replying,

“Yeah, I’d like that.” It was just a few words, a few words that despite their benign meaning meant a lot more to Bellamy than he’d care to admit, because it gave him one thing he hadn’t encountered in a long while: hope. The hope that she might see the man he really was, the man who was worthy of her friendship, respect and trust. **A man who was in love.**

 

* * *

 

**ONE YEAR LATER**

 

     The gentle flurry of snow swirled and furled in a beautiful dance amongst the wind, the flakes fluttering towards the sidewalk before settling themselves upon it. Their rest however was soon quashed by the slow steps of one and the fast ones of another, as Clarke struggled behind Bellamy, who had indeed sped ahead. With lighter shopping bags might she add, as currently hers cut into her hands, pulled down by the heavy weight of the numerous bottles of wine they had purchased for their Christmas celebrations. Flexing her fingers she attempted to ease the agony of her goods, trying in earnest to redistribute the weight, fool her body into thinking that the bags had actually got lighter,

“Come on Clarke!” Bellamy had halted his stampede having now turned towards her, and despite his exasperated and impatient call, he wore the charming smirk she so adored on him, the one that she never tired of. His dark eyes glistened and gleamed in the low winter light as his gaze fell upon her, exuding adoration and teasing, a combination of which had become a force to be reckoned with. With a similar look of amusement on her face she hollered back,

“Hey you’ve got the lightest bags!” She continued her slow languid strides as she refused to alter her speed, especially given the current weather conditions and the precious cargo she held. Plus it was kind of their thing to oppose each other, it was ridiculous and something they had obviously continued on from when their relationship was far from amicable. Despite this somewhat dysfunctional behaviour, it worked for them, it prevented the tedium of familiarity whilst also ensuring that the spark of passion never extinguished. Not that it had ever been a fear; Clarke’s neighbours could probably vouch for that. Observing her from afar he tilted his head in a manner that caused his brunette curls to tumble adorably to one side, as he replied,

“Only because you didn’t trust me with the bottles of wine...” His response, paired with the incredibly cute expression of mock hurt, which was emphasised perfectly by the excessive pout he was now sporting amused her greatly. With a hearty chuckle, she replied in jest,

“Shush you...” Before she had a sudden realisation and hastily called to him,

“... Hang on... stop right there!” A bewildered look contorted Bellamy’s handsome features as he halted, before glancing at Clarke in a manner that undeniably questioned her sudden command before he asked her hastily ,

“What? Why?” Placing herself before him, after having finally caught up, she tilted her head up to meet his gaze, affording him the perfect view of her sparkling azure eyes that exuded affection, as she warmly stated,

“Exactly a year ago today I came home to a nervous idiot standing on this sidewalk.” His expression immediately shifted from one of confusion to a similar look of blissful recollection, as he quipped through a gentle smile,

“Sounds like a charming man to me.” The two dimples that currently framed his full lips, along with his droll remark, in turn broadened her grin further, before she responded,

“He’s got a whole lot better.” The affectionate banter they had entered into had in turn coaxed them closer together, causing their bodies to be in close contact whilst requiring them both to tilt their heads in order to view each other fully. Bellamy’s fingers came to rest tenderly upon Clarke’s cheek, a familiar action that he still revelled in every time it occurred, his finger tips traced lovingly along the smooth, flushed skin of her cheek, as he replied,

“The influence of a good woman?” As she laughed in response, Bellamy took a moment to admire her fully and to appreciate the significance of the very spot they currently resided, the very place where everything changed. The place that held the moment which had written and composed the following year into a symphony that he could only of dreamt of, **one that had brought her to him**. Bellamy often thought of how easy it had been for him to fall for her, how despite her hostile feelings towards him she had still managed to entrance him, capture his heart in a manner he had not known of for some time. It highlighted for him how he was indeed a difficult person to love, a difficult person to get to know, something he had repeatedly been told by his sister, and how Clarke was the complete opposite. That very spot had marked an important step, a moment where he had taken a chance on the fact that the woman he cared for may not be able to see past his flaws, his walls and often hard demeanour. But she had, and every day he was so very glad of it. As her amusement petered out, she hummed through the remnants of a chuckle,

“Something like that.” Feeling the magnetic pull of her mere presence, his fingers continued to glide with care over her cheek, as he brought his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. The touch of her full luscious lips against his, reminded him to thank his lucky stars that a year ago he had managed to pull his head out of his arse. Because in all honesty, she had been the best thing to ever happen to him, the catalyst to a new age in which he no longer mulled over all that been before. All that had shaped his life into the not-so-perfect being he had so opposed and detested, but it had been his life, the cards he had been dealt and ones that he had allowed to damage him so. Damage that had truthfully caused more harm than good had left behind marks and wounds that he revelled in miserably, but she had simultaneously alerted him to his impropriety whilst healing him. She made him better, the best version of himself and he could do nothing but thank her for that, for as long as she so wished. As they pulled apart he gazed upon her one last time before uttering, words he swore were meant for her and only her,

**“I love you.”** As her bright smile reappeared upon her lips, she replied in a way he would never get tired of hearing,

**“I love you too, you loveable asshole.”**


End file.
